From Sugar Daddy To Sugar Mummy

Hey Swēt, I have a confession. I went to that party hunting for a sugar daddy, and it was a woman who took me home.

Lagos had been dulling me for weeks, so when my friend said there was a party on the Island, I put on my finest and followed her, just to feed my eyes. I had the perfect outfit waiting, and with my assets looking as juicy as they were, I knew I'd catch one or a few prospectives' numbers, maybe even a few Sugar Daddies.

Omo, when we got there I saw I was right to dress to kill.

Sharp Lagos girl, I blended in fast. Music was low, and drinks were moving.

A couple of guys came to gist with me, and then this lady, let's call her Amara, eased into the conversation, eyeballing me the whole time. Some people, ehn, they don't need to announce that they're loaded. Her calm, her outfit, her jewelry that was easily land and house for my village, it all did the talking. She was a proper feminist too, blasting her ex and men in general, and we were all laughing.

We played around until it was just me and her. By midnight the party was winding down, my friend had long followed some man home, and Amara leaned in and said she wasn't ready to end the night, so why didn't we go to the beach. I didn't have any other option, and honestly I didn't want one, so I said yes.

But she wasn't taking me to any public beach. She drove us right down to the water and pulled into a compound sitting on the sand, her own place, a whole house facing the ocean. Waves outside, soft light inside, and just the two of us. She poured us something, kicked off her heels, and when she looked at me across that room I knew the ride home had never once been the plan.